


All About Your Heart

by AbsurditiesAbound



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 19:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16540556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsurditiesAbound/pseuds/AbsurditiesAbound
Summary: /Whenever Shouyou looks at Kageyama, his entire being, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, resonates with an emotion he can't put a name to. It's always evolving, always growing, and sometimes Shouyou thinks it may expand into something more than the sum total of his and Kageyama's existence.It makes him wonder if two people can ever share something so much bigger than themselves, something that can barely fit itself in this infinite Universe./





	All About Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> May soulmate-timer prompt on the r/haikyuu discord community.
> 
> 'Older partner has a timer that appears on their arm at some set point before they meet their soulmate. Younger partner has no warning. Only 1 meeting is guaranteed.'
> 
> This will have four parts. Hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

_._

_._

_My imagination sees you_

_Like a painting by Van Gogh_

_Starry nights and sunflowers_

_Follow you where ever you may go_

_._

_._

* * *

 

 

Shouyou is fifteen and seated on the partition in front of the door when it first appears.

His mother’s in the kitchen heating up last night’s leftovers and Natsu is next to him, trying to climb his shirt with her tiny fists. He leans away, trying to wear his shoes with one hand and push her face away from his jaw with the other.

“Brother!” she squeals, her fists pulling his shirt into ugly creases. He chances a look at his mother, who is obliviously humming the commercial anthem for Gari popsicles. “Don’t go, play with me!”

He removes his hand from her face to bring it to one of her fists, prying it open and pushing away her fingers. “Natsu I have to go play volleyball! We have a match in a month!”

Natsu’s eyes narrow and she starts pulling his hair with the hand he just freed his shirt of. “Then play volleyball with me!”

Shouyou can feel the pain – both external and internal – building in his head. He needs to leave and reach school on time for practice in the gym, before the girls’ volleyball team makes it. Just yesterday he had convinced them to let him take the keys and open the gym a little earlier for solo practice. If he doesn’t make it on time on the first day itself-

He needs to get out before Natsu makes him give in. Leaving the shoes, he brings both his hands up to Natsu’s armpits, wiggling his fingers in practised motions the moment they touch her skin.

She lets go with a quick _aaaah_ , her voice a strange mix of upset and laughter. Shouyou takes this opportunity to stand up and rush towards the door. But he forgets about the shoes and trips over them, head bonking on the door. Everything goes silent for a moment before noise crawls back in, his sister with her loud whines and the pressure cooker with its shrill whistle.

Shouyou is going to cry. Or yell. He is deciding on one when he feels the pressure lift from his left. He chances a glance to see Natsu staring at his arm, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. She seems to be staring at something on his arm, and when he follows her line of sight, he realises why.

They stand there, in the middle of the hallway, silent and staring at Shouyou’s arm. Natsu’s eyes look up to find his, small mouth stretching into a mischievous smile. Shouyou wants to tell her off but his throat is strangely full, and he thinks it might be his heart in there.

“Oh?” their mother’s voice floats from above and Shouyou turns his face to look at her smiling one. Silence in their house has always caught her attention the way no chaos ever could. “You got yours so soon, Shouyou.”

“It’s just twenty-eight days?” he blurts out, heart descending from his throat to some bouncy surface in his chest. “That’s so weird and so soon! I am only fifteen!”

“Brother’s going to get married!” Natsu squeals, jumping on her sock-clad feet and pumping her fists in the air.

Shouyou feels heat crawl up his neck. “Natsu! Obviously not!”

His mother laughs. “I hope she’s cuter than you.”

Shouyou wants to refute her but also kind of sit and talk about what his soulmate might be like. Just as he decides to walk out, his sister interrupts with a very firm ‘but she can’t be cuter than Natsu!’.

The statement is exactly what a haughty, insecure nine-year old would say, but the normalcy of it grounds the soaring in Shouyou’s chest. He can finally feel his heart settle in place and beat its familiar rhythm. “I am going,” he mumbles, opening the door and running out before Natsu can remember why they were all gathered at the door in the first place.

He runs down the stony path, up the short hill, through the gravel side path, mouth huffing and heart racing. Eventually he slows down to a stop and raises his wrist, turning it around and looking at it. Right where his palm connects with his arm, sits the picture of a hollow dial. Its edges are numbered at intervals starting from zero, a sleek hand pointing at a beautifully calligraphed _28_. The hand is woven in colours of gold and red, while the circle and the rest of the numbers are coloured black.

He counts the numbers, one for each day to come. And when he reaches zero, he stops.

Whenever Shouyou would cry about the long commercials between his favourite cartoon show, the kids running faster than him on sports’ day or the wound on his knees that just wouldn’t stop hurting, his mother would tell him that good things come to those who wait. They were simply a parent’s pacifying words, but Shouyou would nod and pray to the god of time to hurry up.  

That night, in the comforting darkness of his room, he closes his eyes, brings his palms together, and whispers a familiar prayer. 

The room is still dark when he finally opens his eyes, but the sleek hand on his wrist is now pointing at _27_.

…….

Ten days later, during practice, Koji turns around and smacks the volleyball at his head.

“Ouch!” Shouyou cries out, surprised and hurt. “What was that for?!”

Koji shrugs, walking towards him. They are a little way from the soccer ground, practicing volleyball on the grassy slope. Shouyou had been secretly gleeful about the five minutes by which their practise had exceeded the agreed time, but it seemed the gig was finally up.

Koji plunks down on the grass and Shouyou joins him, balancing the volleyball on his nose. It smells of mud and heat, and Shouyou inhales deeper to breathe in more of it.

“You think we will be ready?” Koji asks. Shouyou looks at him and sees Koji staring back, his eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. “The match is in eighteen days.”

Shouyou doesn’t understand. “What do you mean? Of course, we will be.”

Koji scoffs, looking away at the field below them. “We don’t have a team. Three first-years are on the fence about joining us. If they do, it will be next week. If they don’t, we can’t enter the official match. And you think we will be ready?”

“Yeah!” Shouyou says, now focusing on balancing the ball between his shoulder blades. “We just have to play and win it.”

Koji says nothing, though Shouyou is sure he hears a sigh. The ball rolls between his shoulders, sometimes a little too to the right, a little too to the left. He can feel the mud tracking across his uniform, and vaguely imagines his mother’s face when she will see it. The thought goes as fast as it comes when he realises this is the longest the ball has ever been balanced on his shoulders. He wonders if he can make it last an hour longer – maybe even hours longer – when Koji abruptly bumps into him, making the ball drop on the grass.

Shouyou feels his heart drop. He whips his head around to glare at his friend. “Koji! I was so close!”

“What’s the colour of your zero?” Koji asks, leaning around Shouyou. “It’s on your left wrist, right?”

Shouyou blinks before raising his wrist at eye-level. It looks the same as the first day, with its black numbers and golden-red hand. “Black,” he says, “like everyone else’s.”

“The zero is a different colour, silly,” Koji says, taking hold of his wrist and holding it in the air between them. The fading sunlight hits the colours on the dial and even though they remain black, they take a different spectrum of shades in that moment. “The zero is supposed to be in a colour characteristic of your soulmate. See, it’s dark blue here - Wait,” Koji stops, thumb pressed against the long hand of the dial. “Why is this a golden-red colour?”

“Is it not supposed to be?” Shouyou asks, his right hand reaching for the ball which is beginning to roll down the hill.

“Uh,” Koji pauses, studying it carefully. He drops Shouyou’s hand before looking at some spot to Shouyou’s left. “I am not sure. I have only seen my sister’s, and all the movies say it’s only the zero which is differently coloured.”

Shouyou squints his eyes at his wrist, trying to find the dark blue shade of the zero. “Maybe I should ask my parents? Never really bothered looking at theirs.”

“Huh,” Koji mumbles, before smirking. “Maybe your soulmate is a special one.”

“Like a movie star?” Shouyou prompts, excitement suddenly dripping in his veins.

“Or a princess from England’s royal family.” Koji snickers, eyebrows relaxing from their perpetual frown. “Those colours are very fancy.”

Before Shouyou can wrap his head around the idea, Koji raises both his palms in a placating gesture. “Isn’t it on the same day as our match? What if it’s a volleyball super star? That seems more plausible.”

Shouyou looks at the ball resting under his hand. He imagines meeting a girl who loves playing volleyball and is better than him at it. He hopes she is a setter because then he could spike her sets and they could form a combo that would win all matches. _The power couple_ , Shouyou imagines the headlines, and it makes his face warm.

He has never been on a date, never spoken to cute girls, but the thought of someone extraordinary out there, with the whole world in the palm of their hands, choosing to be with him makes him want to crawl under his covers and scream.

“You won’t be able to play on the same team,” Koji reminds him, as if reading his thoughts. “Men and women have separate matches. Moreover, she can’t be someone famous. If you got the timer, she has to be younger. Wait. What if she is some elementary kid who comes to cheer her brother?”

Shouyou lifts the ball and throws it at Koji. “Don’t ruin my dreams like that!”

Koji ducks and the ball goes rolling down the hill. Shouyou gets up and runs after it. He doesn’t have to look back to see if Koji is following – his friend is never more than a few steps behind.

“Shouyou,” Koji says, eyes brimming with mirth. “What if she runs up to you and says ‘hello uncle!’?”

Shouyou turns around and sticks out his tongue.

…….

The day before the match, chaos breaks out in the club room.

Shouyou looks on, volleyball clutched in his arms, as the girls argue amongst themselves. Something seems to have happened, and it is only when Izumi sidles next to him and starts speaking that he realises what the problem is.

“One of them is not cool with the new plan,” Izumi tells him, voice soft and low in his ears. “She doesn’t want to be subbed out for the new player at the preliminaries tomorrow.”

“Huh,” Shouyou says, eyes following the brunette arguing heatedly. Her hands are flying around in wild gestures, eyes angry and ponytail swishing with every nod. Her teammates are surrounding her, some of them looking bored, others worried. There are two who look just as angry as her, stepping in with loud words the moment she pauses.

“Thank god,” Izumi says, putting a hand on his chest and taking a step back, as if to physically distance himself from the altercation. “We don’t have such fights in the basketball team. There are just enough players and the subs are chill.”

Shouyou keeps staring at the brunette, flinching slightly when one of the angry girls yells in turn. “Girls are scary,” he mumbles, bringing the volleyball closer to his chest.

Izumi laughs. “Anger makes the nicest people look scary.” He says, punching Shouyou slightly on his side. “Good thing we never get that mad at each other, right?”

Shouyou nods, looking down and rotating the ball in his hands. “If you got that scary I would run away from you, Icchan.”

They both flinch when an angry yell echoes in the gymnasium. Shouyou looks up to see the brunette silently staring at the angry black-haired girl before turning around to storm out of the gym. There is some murmuring and jostling before the black-haired girl sighs and follows her out.

“Let’s get back to practicing, Shouyou.” Izumi says, cracking his knuckles and stretching back. “I can go a few more tosses.”

Excitement sings in his veins at his friend’s words, and he follows Izumi to their side of the court. However, for one moment, he chances a glance back and sees the angry duo stepping in through the gym doors. Both still look angry but continue walking steadily towards their team. The rest of the team sits them down and they start talking.

There is a space inside his chest which, sometimes, feels a little empty. Shouyou usually has too many emotions knocking around to fit in his tiny chest. But sometimes, when he thinks of the Little Giant or watches the giant German shepherd across the street lick his owner, the empty space resonates, like the hollow glass in the operas his mother watches on tv.

He feels it resonate now, watching the brunette sniff and settle down in a circle on the floor with her team.

……

He first sees Kageyama Tobio walk past his team as one of the many members of the rival team.  

He looks the same as the rest of them, tall and menacing in all his towering glory. Shouyou has seen tall people before, but right now, standing next to them, he feels like a child caught in the jungle of titans.  It makes his stomach curl in on itself to the backdrop of the cacophony his heart is drumming. He decides to make a run for the washroom.

And that is where he meets Kageyama Tobio.

The boy is as unpleasant as he looks. His words are the pinpricks of needles on Shouyou’s skin.

“Did you come here to make memories?” the boy asks him, his expression painted in annoyance.

He reminds Shouyou of the tall boys in his school who sometimes push past him and rest their elbows atop his head. In him, he sees the face of his volleyball advisor telling him to join the girls’ volleyball club, the snickers of the basketball players pointing their fingers at him, the mocking face of his sister stealing the ball every time it falls off his head and the whispers of the crowds gathered in the gymnasium outside.

“We are here to win,” he tells Kageyama Tobio, with more emotion than he has ever felt.

And then Kageyama Tobio steps in his space, looks down at him, and tells him _he_ will win.

Which he does.

……

“You are quiet,” Koji tells him on the ride back home.

Shouyou sniffs, trying to unclog his nostrils.

“You played well, Shouyou.” Izumi tells him, leaning forward in his seat to reach across Koji and place a hand on Shouyou’s knee.

Shouyou clenches his fists. He can barely see through his tears, his green shorts and pale skin blurring into a distant flicker.

“It’s surprising,” Koji continues, as if uninterrupted. “How quiet you can get in chaotic moments.”

Shouyou looks at him and hopes his mucus isn’t running. “What?”

“Drop it,” Izumi says, nudging Koji with his elbow and a stern voice.

Koji turns in his seat to face Shouyou, completely blocking Izumi’s face. He looks at Hinata, eyes calm and assessing. It reminds Shouyou of Kageyama Tobio, the boy who looked at him like he could reach within him and draw out every secret on him.

And he had. Every block, every receive, every spike.

Shouyou inhales deeply and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see that face, not till he becomes strong enough to grind it into defeat.

“You,” Koji begins, making Shouyou open his eyes. “You went still when the last whistle blew. You stayed quiet when we got into that big fight in fifth grade, and you stop talking when anyone mentions the neighbour’s pet cuckoo who died when we were nine.” Koji curls his hands into fists and thumps them on his thighs. “You always go quiet when… when you should be speaking.”

The train’s noisy rattles fill the silence as Koji’s words fade, mouth askew in frustration. Izumi pushes back Koji’s shoulder, smiling a little. “He wants you to talk to us, Shouyou. We are your friends. The only reason we even saw you crying today was because of that scary Kitagawa setter.”

Shouyou blinks at them.

He thinks back. He can’t recall _thinking_ about staying silent. He can only remember feeling something – the bodily tingles of being in the zone, the pain in his limbs, the expanding cavity in his chest, Kageyama Tobio’s eyes staring back at him from the other side of the net.

“It sucks that we lost,” Izumi is saying. “and ran into a mean guy. But hey, you get to meet your soulmate today. The timer must still be on one, and now-”

Izumi stops. Shouyou doesn’t realise Izumi has stopped till he feels his wrist shake. He blinks to clear his vision and sees Izumi staring at his wrist in wonder, reminiscent of the way Natsu did not too long ago. But when he looks up, there is no smile on his face. “Shouyou,” he says, voice uncertain. “Your timer is gone.”

Shouyou looks down at his wrist. It’s empty, bereft of the beautiful calligraphy that had made itself home for a month.

“When did you meet her?” Koji asks, voice shocked. “I didn’t see you meeting any girls? In fact, there were no girls in our gymnasium!”

“Think back on any girls you greeted today, Shouyou.” Izumi says, his voice excited. “Before the match? On the way to the gymnasium?”

The world around Shouyou goes silent, Izumi and Koji’s voices fading behind the rattle of the train’s wheels. He tries blinking a few times, hoping to clear his vision of the wetness that has been clinging to his eyes like the sweat on his skin.

He raises his wrist, bringing it closer to his face, and turns it around. His fingers run over the empty skin, thumb tracing the front which is as empty as the back. He looks around, turns his wrist this way and that way, runs his fingers everywhere they will go – and yet finds nothing.

He can’t remember meeting any girl. He can’t remember anything beyond the hands that towered over him, slamming down every flight he tried taking. He supposes he should feel something, seeing no colours where he has for a while now, but feelings from earlier in the day have left no space for anything more. Disappointment has his heart in its vice grip, and there is no path for anything else to enter.

There won’t even be, he thinks. Not till he meets Kageyama Tobio again.

And defeats him.

……..

It says something about Shouyou’s life that when they meet again, Shouyou realises he can’t defeat Kageyama Tobio.

Not for the next three years, anyway.

……..

Kageyama Tobio has obvious personality issues. He hates Shouyou and makes no attempts at civility.

But for some strange reason, he remembers Shouyou.

Shouyou doesn’t know how to feel about that. He doesn’t get to choose either, since the next moment he is being insulted and he starts insulting right back, the strange moment quietly slipping from between them. They get thrown out on the first day, which is the worst. The absolute worst comes when they are told to team up and defeat other first-years.

It should be the absolute worst, but somehow Shouyou doesn’t feel the loathing that he can see Kageyama Tobio pace around in.

“I am just a friendlier person,” he tells his mother at dinner that evening. “Kageyama Tobio is mean. He doesn’t want to play with anyone.”

His mother hums a little, placing a big bowl of rice on the table. “But you will have to play together to win, right?”

“I don’t mind that,” he tells her, breaking his chopsticks and scooping the bowl in his hand. “I just want to hit tosses and spike the volleyball like _wham_!”

“Isn’t Kageyama a setter?” his mother asks, wiping her hands on her apron and settling down opposite him.

“He is!” Shouyou swipes his chopsticks in the air, trying to recreate the arc he has seen Kageyama Tobio’s tosses create. “He tosses so far and so good that people call him the King of the Court!”

“Oh really?”

He nods his head frantically. “Really! Imagine if he tosses for me… I would spike it like whaaaam!”

His mother raises an eyebrow, simultaneously picking up the remote control and switching on the television. “I get that he’s cool, stop waving your chopsticks.”

Shouyou lowers his chopsticks and goes back to eating. The soft sounds of the television fill the room as his mother looks away and he surreptitiously fishes out chunks of bell pepper from the potato curry.

“Your mark,” His mother starts speaking suddenly and Shouyou drops the bell pepper on the table. “Eat that. When did it disappear?”

Shouyou blinks. Not once since the match had his mother mentioned his wrist. He hadn’t thought much of it; his mother had a lot more patience than he ever would.

He looks at his wrist. Sometimes, it feels like if he looks away long enough, it will reappear in all its colourful glory. “Uh… a few months ago. On the day of the preliminary match in junior high.”

“Huh,” he looks up to see his mother looking at him, a smile on her face. “Did you meet her?”

He has thought back on the day several times since then. Every hello, every glance, every emotion. But he knows there was no girl, no one he remembers looking at and feeling something.

“No,” he tells her. “I didn’t meet any girl.”

“You must have,” his mother immediately says. “But it was probably…” she branches off, suddenly looking at him again. “You met no girl that day, you say?”

He shakes his head from side to side. “Nope. Maybe the girl passed by me? Maybe she was cheering from the side? It’s not necessary to meet someone face to face, right?”

“Maybe,” his mother responds, her voice fading like the ending notes of a song. From experience, Shouyou knows his mother’s mind has wandered off. He puts some gravy in his bowl and resumes eating, wondering if maybe he did miss his soulmate. He had been sad that day, and nothing else has stuck in his mind since.

“Shouyou.” His mother says. He looks back at her, noisily chewing the piece of bell pepper in his mouth. “When did you realise it had disappeared?”

“In the train back home! Izumi noticed it.”

“And you don’t feel sad?”

“Nope,” he tells her, wishing he felt as mystified as his mother looks. “I dunno… uh, I haven’t thought much since? I mean, I might meet her again, right? Any way right now I want to win the match and get in the volleyball club! And become the best at volleyball, better than anyone else – especially that stupid King.”

He has finished off his bowl of rice before his mother speaks again. “You do.”

“Huh?”

“You do meet them,” she tells him, standing up and collecting his bowl and plate. “You see them in person. And I have only my experience to speak of, but you do feel something.”

She starts walking towards the kitchen, calling out for Natsu who has been holed up in her room pasting wall stickers, and Shouyou -

Shouyou wonders.

……

The first time Kageyama Tobio tosses to him, Shouyou soars.

It comes at him abruptly, at a time when he has no energy to spare, but the exhilaration of Kageyama Tobio finally setting for him, of the boy finally looking his way fills his limbs with a magic elixir.

His hands touch the ball and it goes flying, much like Shouyou. He isn’t on the ground; he is in the air, he is floating, and his feet are never going to touch the ground again. He can feel the euphoria zip through him like an electric current and bloom into a grin on his face.

He lands eventually, as does the ball, but the world has changed. It has finally become one in which Shouyou can fly.

Shouyou turns around to look at Kageyama. He is looking right back at him, eyes open a smidge wider than usual.

His eyes trail down Kageyama’s sides to his palms, which are slightly callused and red. These hands, Shouyou thinks, are the difference between the ground under Shouyou’s feet and the sky that has always been out of his reach. And this boy, with his prickly mouth and surreal talent, is all the difference in what Shouyou has always been and what he can be.  

It’s his face that Shouyou has seen every time he has hit a ball or run up the hills in the past six months. It’s his angry eyes that have haunted his dreams and made him suck in a deep breath and keep pushing through exam nights. It’s Kageyama whom Shouyou has imagined pointing a finger at and laughing from atop his #1 victory stand.

He has hated Kageyama since the moment they met and has never once had reason to doubt it; but now, in the stifling heat of the air surrounding them, Shouyou feels the cold slice of thaw at the edges of the poorly held ice in his chest.

……

**Author's Note:**

> Title and beginning quotes are from 'All About Your Heart' by Mindy Gledhill.


End file.
